


Cold Hands, Warm Heart

by afterandalasia



Series: Femslash Yuletide 2014 [10]
Category: Frozen (2013), Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Arendelle, Christmas Presents, Courtship, Crossover Pairings, Elsa Has Ice Powers, F/F, Female Jack Frost, Femslash Yuletide 2014, Lesbian Elsa, Post-Frozen (2013), Post-Rise of the Guardians (2012), Secret Admirer, Secret Santa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-10
Updated: 2014-12-10
Packaged: 2018-02-28 22:05:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2748842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afterandalasia/pseuds/afterandalasia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Elsa starts waking up to find strange and beautiful gifts left on her windowsill, she is determined to solve the mystery of who is leaving them.</p><p> </p><p>Written for Femslash Yuletide Day Ten, "Secret Santa".</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cold Hands, Warm Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Although this work was written for the Femslash Yuletide Day Ten prompt (from last year, at least), "Secret Santa", Rule 63 fanworks are not eligible for Femslash Yuletide. So it's not going in the main collection, just in the series.
> 
> Oddly enough, I think this might be the first femslash Jelsa on the archive. Not sure how that happened.

It was the thirteenth of December when Elsa opened the windows of her room to find a Lussekatter sitting on her windowsill. She paused, frowning, and picked it up, unable to help wondering  whether Anna had somehow managed to scale the outside of the walls to place it there. It was still warm beneath her fingers, sweet-scented on the air, and Elsa leant out to look for any indication of ropes or ladders. There were none.  
  
"What have you been up to this time?" she murmured, straightening back up again. Although it was _expected_ that she should have a maid to help her rise, dress, eat breakfast and the like, Elsa had been used to independance for so long that she was quite capable of preparing herself for the morning. She suspected that the maids would rather have to tidy her room than Anna's, in any case.  
  
Still with the Lussekatter in her hand, she made her way down to the small dining room, unsurprised to find Kristoff awake but Anna nowhere to be seen. "Good morning," she said with a nod, making her way to the head of the table.  
  
Kristoff looked up from his eggs and salmon, hastily wiping his mouth. "Good morning."  
  
"Did you sleep well?" Lady's maid or no, she did allow one of the footmen to draw back her chair for her, and then slide it beneath the table once again.  
  
"Not too bad. Got a bit stuffy again, but I just had to open a window for that."  
  
Elsa chuckled. That certainly was a feeling that she understood, although it probably helped that she did not feel the cold. Kristoff went for wrapping up warmly instead. As a thought occurred to her, however, she gave him a more piercing look. "So, how involved were you in helping my sister with her latest scheme?"  
  
She had to give him credit - he actually looked confused. "Whaaat has she done now?"  
  
Elsa held up the roll pointedly, and Kristoff gave it an equally blank look. "You were the one who provided her with the rope to pull this off, right? Leaving Lussekatter on my windowsill?"  
  
"I was not aware of Anna climbing onto any windowsills," said Kristoff, and to judge by the straight face he kept, he actually meant it.  
  
Kristoff was the only one that she could think of in the castle who would have the climbing skills to do this, and Anna... well, Anna was the only one that Elsa coud think of who might care enough. Frowning, Elsa looked back to the roll again, then carefully put it down beside her plate. Perhaps it would be better not to eat mysteriously-appearing items of food.  
  
  
  
  
  
The next morning, she was less surprised, but no less baffled, to find a small wooden reindeer perched on her windowsill. Anna had claimed innocence with regards to the Lussekatter, and Elsa was at least relatively sure that she had been telling the truth. Which did not solve the mystery of how it had got there in the first place, but did at least make Elsa feel relieved that her sister was not abseiling off the roof in her spare time.  
  
Elsa left the reindeer on her dressing table, and resolved to find out who on earth was responsible for this.  
  
  
  
  
  
On the third day, Elsa found a glittering geode egg on her sill, and looked around in complete bewilderment as to how somebody was getting there. There was really nobody but Anna who would do something like this, but Anna was not taking credit or responsibility and Elsa did not think that she could keep it up for this long in any case. Not without getting too excited and letting something slip.  
  
Besides, she had no idea where Anna would get a geode, especially one like this. She had seen one before, when she was a child, and had seen slides of them since, but they had been white or purple in colour. This was... unless she was greatly mistaken, it was opal. She had not even known that it was possible for something like this to exist, like an egg cracked open to reveal multi-coloured fire frozen on the inside. It was beautiful.  
  
Elsa looked over at the little wooden reindeer still on her dressing table, then pressed the geode to her thigh, letting her dress form a small pocket around it, then smoothing down so that it was not visible. She could feel it pressing against her leg, though, a reminder.  
  
Later that evening, she showed it to Anna, whose amazement and delight made it clear that she had not at all been behind it. She chalked it up to a mystery, and waited almost curiosly for what the next morning would bring.  
  
  
  
  
  
The fourth day brought a small silk sachet, the fabric the most intense blue that Elsa had ever seen. It had not even frozen to the sill, despite the Arendelle winter taking hold outside, and when Elsa pressed it to her nose it smelt like mint and mountaintops, and made her think of being at the top of the North Mountain once again.  
  
  
  
  
  
On the fifth day, she was met with the glitter of gold, and was beyond amazed to find an exquisite gold coin, water-thin, bearing a figure in strange clothes and writing in a script which looked familiar, but not quite like the Greek it somewhat resembled. Elsa picked it up carefully, holding it up to the light in amazement, and wondered not just where it could have come from but who could have put it there.  
  
As the evening rolled on, and once her duties for the day were finally done, she retired to the library and resorted to the books, seeking out the coin she had been given. It was rather later at night when Anna wandered in, suppressing yawns, to find Elsa at the greatest table with books all spread out in front of her, in more than one languages.  
  
"Are you okay?" said Anna, looking at the spread of books.  
  
Elsa looked up, and smiled. There was not a flurry of snow in the air, not a whisper of wind to threaten the candles. "Look at this," she said, pressing the coin into Anna's hand. "It was on my windowsill. Look, the language is Bactrian."  
  
She pointed to one of the books, in which she had found samples of the writing, and Anna looked at it obediently but in confusion.  
  
"This coin is from the Far East," said Elsa, "and it is _old_ , Anna, so old!" She paid no notice even as Anna put the coin carefully down on the table once again. "Perhaps... eighteen hundred, nineteen hundred years. There are no coins quite like it, but here," turning another heavy tome, filled with extensive images of ancient coins which had travelled back and forth along the Silk Road. "These are similar, if less well-preserved."  
  
Anna looked at the image for a long moment, tilting her head to the side, then nodded. "I suppose it does look sort of similar."  
  
Taking Elsa's hand, though, she drew her away from the table. Elsa went to protest, but Anna put a finger to her lips and gave her a fond smile, for one moment not looking like the baby sister at all. It slowly dawned on Elsa that her cheeks were flushed, and that she had not just dispensed with her cloak but let the the sleeves and shoulders of her dress fade away as well, leaving just the bodice and skirt behind.  
  
"Elsa, I have to ask... why is someone doing this? Who could get geodes and ancient coins and... who would put them there?"  
  
It wasn't a suggestion of threat, though Elsa still felt a pang of concern over who could be doing this and what their intentions might be. Gifts were one thing, but unannounced gifts, left in a strange place, were... well, Elsa was not at all sure what to think of them. They seemed kind, but she knew that what looked kind could have ill intentions, and what looked cruel could have good. But it would be nice if appearances were correct, just for once.  
  
"I don't know," she admitted. "I wondered whether finding out about the coin would help, but..." she gave a helpless laugh. "It seems not."  
  
Anna ran her thumbs across Elsa's knuckles. "Maybe you should stay in another room tonight."  
  
"I'll be fine," said Elsa. "I do have other ways of protecting myself." Squeezing her sister's hands, she added; "And perhaps I should stay up to see this person."  
  
  
  
  
  
Despite knowing that she was quite capable of remaining awake for an entire night, Elsa woke up the next morning at her desk, with her cheek on the pages of the book she had been reading. Frowning, she sat up, looked around the room, and found nothing out of the ordinary.  
  
She all but stalked over to the windows and threw them open, glaring at the fan that was perched on the windowsill this morning. Picking it up, she snapped it open with a flick of her wrist, and paused. It looked like fine paper, and was painted with a scene of snow-capped mountains, flanked with thick green rainforest at the bottom.  
  
Arendelle was not exactly a place where fans were needed, but they were still rather popular at balls and social gatherings. They tended to be made of fabric and lace, though, and once again Elsa realised that she was holding something that must have come from some distance away.  
  
She leaned right out of her window to look at the others around. There was no sign of disturbance, no indication in the snow that someone had been tying off ropes or using ladders. Even looking upwards to the edge of the roof gave no clues.  
  
"Who are you?" she asked the air in general. For a moment, she thought that there was a whisper of an answer, then it was lost to the wind.  
  
  
  
  
  
The evening after discovering the fan, Elsa formed a sheet of ice just outside her window, enveloping it in a cocoon. What it would make the mysterious gift-giver do, she was not quite sure, but she was starting to feel ridiculous for being able to do nothing about receiving this anonymous items.  
  
Again she tried to stay awake, and again she found herself asleep at her desk. This time, though, she had been writing, and had to rub ink from her cheek before reworking her dress and considering herself presentable. Frustration aside, she was feeling more refreshed than she had in a very long time.  
  
A single gilded walnut was waiting for her as she opened the windows once again. That _was_ a fashion that had come to Arendelle, with little fortunes hidden inside, but usually one was made for each member of the family. Just one was an oddity. This walnut was pristine as well, not slightly wonky like the ones they had always had as children.  
  
Elsa rolled the walnut over in her fingers, wondering whether she should open it or not, then hung it from a fine thread of ice from the windowframe itself.  
  
She was not sure how she felt about how it must have got there. A small hole had appeared in her icy wall, not more than eight inches across, as if someone had melted away her ice. It was smooth to her touch as she ran her fingers around it, and almost tingled against her fingertips.  
  
This time, she did not know what to say, whether there was even a question that she could ask. She could not help wondering whether there was, somehow, someone _like her_ out there.  
  
  
  
  
  
On the eighth morning, Elsa was at least expecting to awaken from her unintended sleep, and was in bed with her book beside her. She shook her head and rubbed her eyes, looking at the sleep-dust for a moment before deciding that no, she did not see a glitter to it.  
  
Another ice wall, another hole made in it, and this time a delicately-folded handkerchief was waiting for her. Elsa swept away her ice with one hand as she picked up the kerchief with the other, running her thumb over the delicate lace around the edge. ᛏᛗᛖ was embroidered in the corner, in an icy-blue thread that looked almost like her own ice, but clearly silk to the touch. Her initials, already prepared for her, in the old script of Arendelle.  
  
After a moment's hesitation, she folded up the handkerchief and slipped it into the bodice of her dress. Christmas celebrations were developing apace in the castle, and though Anna was delighted to be doing most of the organisation, Elsa had to be involved in certain parts. The first party was to be that very night, and there were so many things to finish before it could take place. She did not have time for this mystery.  
  
  
  
  
  
The party went on until deep into the night, and of course Elsa had to be there to its completion. Were it not for the good dreams that she was finding herself with in recent days, she probably would have been exhausted, but as it was she was quite happy to dance with Anna until the clocks were chiming four and, finally, the last of the guests excused themselves.  
  
She checked her windowsill before donning her nightgown, but there was nothing there yet. Warm and still a little giddy from the celebrations, Elsa flung open her windows, breathing in the cold air and smiling at the snowflakes that came to land on her skin. She would clear them in the morning.  
  
At one point that night, she half-stirred, thinking that she had heard something, but by the time that she rolled over the thought had escaped her, and she slipped back to her dreams again.  
  
Elsa awoke to a room littered with snow, icicles hanging from her windowseat, and a bright splash of colour in the middle of her sill. The snow melted as she rose from her bed, gathering into her hand as she swept the room clean, and the icicles melted away to nothing in their turn.  
  
The colour turned out to be an egg. It looked rather like the ones that would be hidden around the town come Easter, but when she held it to the light it was translucent, empty inside. And the painting was exquisite. Gold framed pictures of different landscapes: an icy wilderness on the bottom; the sides split into three for a golden-pillared palace, a lush green valley full of bright flowers, and an island of gold with swirling dunes and trees like clouds; and at the top, a city under ice, with bright windows shining in cliffs and, through it all, a great sphere rising from the snow.  
  
The detail was incredible, the colours beyond anything that Elsa had seen even among the many portraits that her parents had collected over the years. She felt as if she could step into any one of the pictures. Wood-carving, embroidery, and now painting, all to add to the apparent skills of this stranger who was also able to climb the walls of the castle every night without anyone noticing.  
  
  
  
  
  
She had stopped telling Anna by then, and Anna had stopped asking, though occasionally an expression would flicker across her face as if she was thinking of it again. Elsa herself was not sure whether to think of this as some grand gesture or some terrible scheme, though she had to say that she was not sure of any scheme that could involve eggshells in a particularly wicked manner.  
  
It was by then only three days before Christmas, and Elsa was not at all surprised to wake to find another item - another gift? - waiting for her. This time it was a feather, iridescent blue-green and perfectly formed, which twirled in the air as she ran her fingers over the shaft. It was nearly as long as her palm, beautiful, and strange.  
  
She hung it up beside the walnut, the strange pair glittering in the early morning sunlight. Shaking her head, Elsa closed the windows again. Perhaps in three more days, she would have her answer.  
  
  
  
  
  
Anna found her the next morning, still standing at the window with the latest little gift in her hands. Yawning, scratching her head, Anna padded over to look at it: a small glass vial, no larger than Elsa's little finger, with gold dust in it.  
  
"So you are still getting them," said Anna.  
  
"It would seem so," Elsa admitted. She gestured to the feather and the gilded walnut above their heads. "One each day."  
  
"Starting from St. Lucia's Day?" said Anna. Her eyes went wide. "Oh! You think these are Christmas presents?"  
  
It was... well, one logical conclusion at least. St. Lucia's Day to Christmas, and Elsa wondered whether that might mean that she would actually meet her mysterious present-leaver. There was something almost exciting about it, like a private game, or some sort of riddle for which she had not even figured out the question, let alone the answer.  
  
"This was with it," said Elsa, handing over a tiny slip of card. Anna plucked it from her hands.  
  
" _'For the sweetest dreams'_ ," she read aloud. She looked over at the golden dust again. "Is that sand?"  
  
"I think so." But it was exquisite, shining. "Not sure what it means, though."  
  
 The writing was fine and sharp-edged, almost jagged on the page. Elsa had run her fingers over the writing, held the card to her nose as if it might be scented as well. But it had just reminded her of the highest skies once again.  
  
Anna grinned. "We should both stay up tonight. See if we can catch them."  
  
"I've tried. It doesn't work."  
  
"Sure," said Anna breezily, "but I am a _champion_ at staying up."  
  
  
  
  
  
Elsa wake up the next morning to find Anna cuddled up against her shoulder, snoring gently. An _I told you so_ might have been justified, but she simply chuckled and slipped out of bed, laving her sister to cuddle a pillow instead, and made her way over to the window. She hesitated before looking outside, not sure whether she was more excited or nervous at the thought of finding - or not finding - something there.  
  
She opened the window quietly, so as not to wake Anna. With her heart in her throat, Elsa brushed some of the freshest snow off the latest item - a wooden carving, not more than four inches tall, of a human figure. A girl, she thought, although they were pretty androgynous, with shoulder-length hair, and ragged trousers beneath a loose shirt. The quality was as exceptional as that of the reindeer had been; the hair seemed to curl in a breeze, there was a trace of an impish smile about the lips, and when it had been standing on the sill it had leant on the wooden staff in its hand. It had one hand outstretched, palm up.  
  
"Is it you?" she murmured to the carving. "Or do you know them?"  
  
There was a familiarity with which the features had been carved which meant that, surely, it had to have been one or the other. Anna groaned and rolled over heavily behind her, and Elsa almost clutched the carving to her chest, as if she had been caught with some sort of contraband, before remembering that Anna, too, seemed to have come around to the idea of her mystery gift-giver being a benevolent one.  
  
Besides, it was getting close to dawn, which meant that they had both slept more than long enough by now. With a slightly mischievious smile of her own, Elsa went to wake her sister, supposing that a well-placed cold hand would probably do the trick.  
  
  
  
  
  
Christmas Eve was always important in Arendelle. The family - and they were a family, now - had their own Christmas Lunch that day, and exchanged their presents over the desserts at the end. Before they knew it, Anna had them ice-skating again, trying to hold onto both of their hands at once and almost sending all three of them into the Christmas tree in the process. She turned to Elsa full of apologies, but Elsa was laughing too hard to even consider being annoyed.  
  
It seemed like every noble member of Arendelle had turned out for the feast and party that evening, and every ambassador currently in the country besides. Elsa danced with so many people that she barely remembered all of their names, rescued any number of the ambassadors from Anna's enthusiastic questioning about their home countries, and thanked everyone for their kind gifts even when she could not for the life of her remember who was supposed to have given which one.  
  
In short, it was precisely what parties seemed to have become nowadays.  
  
Eventually, Anna dragged her onto the dance floor herself; for women to dance with women, and even men to dance with men, was considered rather more acceptable now that the Princess of Arendelle had taken to dancing with her sister.  
  
"You never told me what it was this morning," said Anna, grinning.  
  
That had been partially because Elsa had not been sure quite how to describe it. To call it a _toy_ was injustice to its artistry, but to call it just a _carving_ felt terribly bland. "A wooden model," she opted for. "Of a person."  
  
"Was it you?"  
  
She laughed. "No, unless I have a habit of running round in torn trousers which I've been keeping from you."  
  
Anna looked Elsa up and down, then shook her head. "Somehow, I can't quite see that."  
  
  
  
  
  
Once again she found herself going to bed late and tired, and sat for a while considering the golden dust 'for the sweetest dreams'. But her dreams had been uncommonly good of late in any case, and she set it aside once again. She was just about to give in to sleep when a thought occured to her, and returning to her desk she found a spare sheet of paper. Perhaps her visitor did not want to be seen, but they might be amenable to a note.  
  
She hesitated for a long while over what to write, trying phrase over phrase in her head, and considering the runes on the handkerchief hoped that they would read modern Arendellen. Surely the thought was ridiculous; runes had only been used for the Old Tongue, and were for ceremony and stonecarving nowadays. But it was there nonetheless.  
  
It made her chuckle at herself, and broke the tension. She finally set pen to paper.  
  
_To whomever is leaving these gifts,_  
  
_I thank you for your generosity, and wish only that I could do so in person. If you would allow us to meet, I would appreciate it._  
  
She went to seal it with the normal wax, then changed her mind, and made a seal of ice instead, with the flower of Arendelle surmounted by a snowflake. Knowing better by now than to try to stay awake, she left the letter on her windowsill, in a protective framework of ice to keep the natural snow away, and waited for Christmas with the most excitement that she had felt since she had been a child.  
  
  
  
  
  
The next morning, her letter was gone, and Elsa's heart sank when she saw that there was no reply. She was about to wave away the ice from her windows, though, when she saw that it was not the usual pattern that developed there, nor the one that usually came from her magic. There was something organic about it, like fern patterns; _fractals_ , her mind provided, and her breath came a little quicker as she reached out to touch it. As she did so, the ice shattered, bursting like a firework to hang around her in a fine, glittering cloud.  
  
Was it supposed to be an answer? Elsa was not sure, but would admit to being enamoured of it, or to feeling like her chest was constricting around her heart with the half-joy-half-terror feeling of seeing magic, real magic, that was not hers.  
  
She stumbled back against the windowsill, breathing hard, and her hand bumped against something. Whipping round, Elsa managed to catch it before it fell, cradling it carefully as she realised what it was.  
  
Where yesterday's gift had been wooden, and unfamiliar, this one was ice, and bore her face. Elsa's breath came faster as she stood the figure in her hand; it was her, down to the form of her braid and the way that her dress parted for her foot. The model held out one hand as well, and as something clicked in Elsa's mind she turned to her desk and set the ice model beside the wooden one. Their hands slipped into one another, and they faced each other as they stood.  
  
Nervous laughter threatened to burst out, and Elsa pressed her hand to her lips. Was this an invitation to dance? She looked at the strange wooden figure again, the girl with the staff and the impish expression, then out to her window almost pleadingly. It was still dark outside, the stars bright in the sky, and as wonderful as it was this mystery surely had to come to an end.  
  
It was Christmas day, and these last two gifts had been meant to stand together. She had thought that perhaps this morning she might have her answer.  
  
Elsa was still standing, unsure of what to do, when there was a knock at the door. "Your Majesty?" said one of the maids.  
  
No matter what was being left on her windowsill, she had a country to rule. Elsa shook the thoughts from her head, turned her back on the two figures, and straightened up. "One moment," she called back.  
  
It was all that she could allow herself.  
  
  
  
  
  
That night, the celebration was not a matter of a meal or dances in the Great Hall. It started in the courtyard, and before too long spilled into the streets of Arendelle. Bonfires had been lit, impromptu music spilled from doorways or from the groups of musicians brave enough to take off their gloves and play in the streets, people were selling roasted chesnuts and hot fish, and the city seemed determined to drive away the darkness and cold of the winter.  
  
Elsa was watching one of the folk dances that had broken out in the Square when Kristoff, appearing at her shoulder, managed to make her jump.  
  
"Your mind's elsewhere," he noted.  
  
She gave him a smile, but it felt weak. "It has been a long few days."  
  
"And here was me thinking that Christmas was a time for fun."  
  
"Only if you aren't the one organising it," she said, with a conspiratorial look. Not far away, Anna was learning a dance from some resident of Arendelle, laughing and spinning, her hair in disarray. A couple of the palace guards had followed her and were now finding themselves dancing as well, much to their apparent bewilderment. "Personally, I'm looking forward to some quiet."  
  
"So you're not coming to visit my family after the New Year?" said Kristoff. Elsa tried to give him a stern glance, but it might have come out a little frightened. "Don't worry. I expect you'll be too busy being Queen anyway."  
  
He managed to keep a straight face even as Elsa gave up and laughed. As much as she liked Kristoff's company, the trolls could be a little... too much.  
  
"Obviously," she said.  
  
  
  
  
  
Technically, it was no longer Christmas at all by the time that Elsa relented and went to bed. The sun was close to rising, which meant that it was an absurdly late time to be awake at this time of year, and though the celebration was continuing it now largely comprised of different people than had started it.  
  
The quiet in her room was a relief, and she paused for the first moment at the door to savour it, her head swimming. Straightening, Elsa turned, and stopped when she realised that not only were her windows open, but there was a woman sitting on the sill.  
  
She knew by the staff that it was the one on whom the wooden carving had been based, and she could see now that it was a good carving. The woman's hair was a true white, coming down to her shoulders, and her loose shirt was deeply blue and spiderwebbed with what Elsa thought at first was silver thread, then realised was ice.  
  
"Who are you?" Elsa said, after the first startled moment passed between them.  
  
The girl unfolded her legs from the sill and stood up. "Sorry," she said. "I hope that I didn't startle you."  
  
"Your name," said Elsa, more firmly. She discreetly gathered magic in the palm of her right hand.  
  
The woman crossed her ankles, leaning against her staff. Her feet were bare, trousers ragged, shirt far too large. "You'd probably know me best as Jack," she said.  
  
"Jack?"  
  
The woman grinned. "Jack Frost."  
  
Elsa's first instinct was an off-hand dismissal, waving away such a ridiculous notion and demanding the woman's real name instead. The only reason that she did not immediately call for the guards was that she knew that she was capable of handling herself. Sad as it was, at least recent months had shown that.  
  
But there was something soft and sad in the woman's voice, at odds with her smile, and Elsa had heard enough stories to know that every story came from _somewhere_.  
  
"The winter spirit?"  
  
"Pretty much," said Jack, with a shrug. "Jacqueline was a mouthful. No-one ever used it."  
  
"And you have been leaving these gifts?" Elsa's chest seemed to constrict again.  
  
Jack looked a little more bashful, scuffing her heel against the floor. "I'm sorry that it took me so long to come forward," she said. "I just wanted to check... check that you believed."  
  
Believed in a children's story and a fairy tale and... believed that there had to be someone out there with a power like hers, some order hidden beneath the chaos. "Did I pass?" said Elsa. It came out breathless.  
  
"Well, you can see me," said Jack. "So I guess so."  
  
Elsa had to take a deep breath, feeling oddly light-hearted and frightened and excited all at the same time, and determined not to let any of it show. She walked slowly towards the woman who called herself Jack Frost, seeing the ice glittering in the grain of her staff, across her shoulders. "I said that I would thank you in person," she said, as they drew close enough to stand face-to-face. "So... thank you." A bow of her head. "For your kind gifts."  
  
"It wasn't weird?" said Jack, pointing to the windowsill with her thumb.  
  
"It was a little bit weird," Elsa admitted.  
  
Jack gave a sheepish laugh. Elsa was still trying to figure out her age - she looked younger than Anna in some ways, with bare feet and boyish clothes, but her eyes were old and her voice was soft and warm. "I had to... work up to talking to you in person, I suppose. Called in a few favours from my friends."  
  
Remembering the handkerchief folded into her bodice once again, Elsa pulled it out and held it up, embroidery shining. "You sew?"  
  
"I might have persuaded Phil to do that for me," said Jack. "Promised not to annoy him when he's on security for a couple of years."  
  
Elsa had no idea what it meant, but she felt buoyant just from hearing Jack speak. Relieved laughter tumbled from her lips, and she almost thought that she might cry but blinked away the tears.  
  
"So," said Jack, with just a note of teasing in her voice now, "you're not going to call the guards on me?"  
  
"I think I'd rather hear more about you," Elsa replied. "If you're willing to talk."  
  
Jack gave a heart-melting smile. "I'd like that," she said, "very much indeed."


End file.
